"Ay, an _exaltation_ like--ation! ation! I'm sure nae Scot that isna a fool wad ever let that sound, _ation_, come out o' his mouth. Mumps, what say ye tilt?"

"But, Croudy, I have news to tell you that will delight you very much; only, ere I begin, tell me seriously, Does your dog really run off when he sees or hears the king's two white hounds?"

"Really he does--Is that ony wonder? D'ye think Mumps sic a fool as no to ken a witch by a brute beast?"

"What do you mean to insinuate, Croudy?"

"_Sinuate_--What's that?"

"I mean, What would you infer when you talk of witches? I have some strange doubts about these dogs myself."

"Can you keep a secret?"

"Yes, if it is worth keeping."

"At ony rate, swear that if ever you do tell it, it is not to be in English. Nane o' your _awlis's_ an' _ations_ in it. Gale, I hae the maist wonderfu' story to tell ye that ever happened sin' Nimrod first gaed out to the hunting wi' a bull-dog an' a pouch-fu' stanes. Ye see, yesterday at morn, when the hunt began, I clamb up into the Eildon tree, an' haid mysel' amang the very thickest o' its leaves, where I could see every thing, but naething could see me. I saw the twa white hounds a'

the gate, but nae appearance of a deer; an' aye they came nearer an'

nearer to me, till at last I saw a bonny, braw, young lady, a' clad i'

white, about a hunder paces frae me, an' she was aye looking back an'

rinning as gin she want.i.t to be at the Eildon tree. When she saw the hounds comin on hard behind her, she cried out; but they soon o'ertook her, threw her down, an' tore her, an' worried her; an' I heard her makin' a noise as gin she had been laughin' ae while an' singin'

another, an' O I thought her sang was sweet; it was something about the fairies. Weel, this scene, sae contrair to a' nature, didna end here, for I heard the tae dog sayin' to the t.i.ther, in plain language,--'Wha's this has been the deer to-day?' An it answered again an' said, 'Lady Marrion of Coomsley, ye may see by her goud rings; she is the twenty-third, and our task will soon be dune.'

'Sister, read me my riddle,' said the first.

'I ate my love an' I drank my love, An' my love she gae me light; An' the heart o' the deer may lie right near Where it lay yesternight.'

'Ha! that's nae riddle!' said the other; 'little does some wat what they're to eat an' what they're to drink the night! Can ye tell me, sister, if the wicked deed will be done?--Will the king die to-night?

'The poison's distill'd, and the monk is won, And to-night I fear it will be done.

Hush!--hush!--we are heard an' seen; Wae be to the ears, and wae be to the een!'

"An wi' that, they rowed themsels on the bonny corpse; and when I lookit again, there was a fine, plump, bausined roe-deer lying, an' the blude streamin' frae her side; an' down comes the king an' his men, an' took her away hame to their supper."

"Now, Croudy, of all the tales I ever heard that is the most improbable and unnatural! But it is too singular and out of the common course of nature for you to have framed it; and besides, I never knew you to tell a manifest lie--Are you certain that you did not dream it?"

"How could I dream on the top of a tree? Ye may either believe it or no as ye like--it's a' true."

"I was sure there was something more than ordinary about these dogs; but what to make of your story I know not. Saint Waldave be our shield! Do you think the king and his n.o.bles have been feasting upon changed human creatures all this while? There is something in the whole business so revolting to human nature, a man cannot think of it! It seems, too, that there is a plot against the life of the king--What shall we do in this?--The fairies have again been seen at the Eildon Tree, that is certain; and it is said some more young people are missing."

"They'll soon hae us a' thegither--I like that way o' turnin' fock into deers an' raes, and worrying them, warst ava--Mumps, lad, how wad ye like to be turned into a deer, an' worried an' eaten?--Aigh, man! ye _wad_ like it ill! I think I see how ye wad lay yoursel out for fear--Ha, ha! I wad like to see ye get a bit hunt, man, if I thought ye wad win away wi' the life--I wad like to see ye streek yoursel for aince."

"I wonder, Croudy, after seeing such a sight as you have just now described, that you can descend from that to speak such nonsense."

"Tongues maun wag--an' when they gang it's no for naething--It's a queer thing speaking!--Mumps, ye can speak nane, man--It's no for want of a tongue, I'm sure."

"Let us consider what's to be done--The king should be warned."

"I dinna see what's to hinder you to speak, Mumps, as weel as ony white beagle i' the country."

"I have it--I will go home directly and tell pretty Pery--she will apprize the abbot, and we shall have the two hounds, Mooly and Scratch, burnt at the stake to-morrow."

"You tell Pery? No; that will never do; for you will speak English--That tale winna tell in English; for the twa witches, or fairies, or changed fock, or whatever they may be, didna speak that language themsels--sin'

the thing is to be tauld, I'll rather tell Pery mysel, if it is the same thing to you."

This Pery was a young volatile maiden at Eildon Hall, who was over head and ears in love with Gale. She would have given the whole world for him; and in order to tease him somewhat, she had taken a whim of pretending to be in love with Croudy. Croudy hated all the women, and more particularly Pery, who had been the plague of his life; but of late he had heard some exaggerated accounts of the kind sentiments of her heart respecting him, which had wonderfully altered Croudy, although he still kept up as well as he could the pretence of disliking the s.e.x. He went to Pery that evening as she was gathering in some clothes from the bushes, and desired her, with a most important face, to meet him at the Moss Thorn in half an hour, for he had something to tell her that would surprise her.

"Indeed and that I will with all my heart, Croudy," said she; "how glad I am that I have got you this length! I can guess what your secret will be."

"Ye can do nae sic thing," said Croudy, "nor nae woman that ever was born."

"I'll wager three kisses with you, Croudy, at the Old Moss Thorn, that I do," returned she.

Croudy hung his head to one side, and chuckled, and crowed, and laid on the ground with his staff; and always now and then cast a sly look-out at the wick of his eye to Pery.

"It's a queer creature a woman," said Croudy--"very bonny creature though!"

"Well, Croudy, I'll meet you at the Moss Thorn," said Pery, "and pay you your wager too, provided you have either spirit to ask, or accept of it when offered."

Croudy went away laughing till his eyes blinded with tears, and laying on the ground with his stick.--"I watna what I'll do now," said he to himself, "little impudent thing that she is!--She's eneugh to pit a body mad!--Mumps--O, man, ye're an unfarrant beast!--Three kisses at the Moss Thorn!--I wish I had this meeting by!--Mumps, I never saw sic an unfeasible creature as you, man, when ane thinks about a bonny woman--A woman!--What is a woman?--Let me see!--'Tis no easy to ken!--But I ken this--that a ewe lamb is a far nicer, bonnier, sweeter, innocenter, little creature than a toop lamb. Oh! I wish it war night, for I'm no weel ava!--Mumps, ye're a perfect blockhead, man!"

Precisely while this was going on at Eildon-Hall, there were two ladies met hurriedly on the Abbey Walk. No one knew who they were, or whence they came, but they were lovely beyond expression, although their eyes manifested a kind of wild instability. Their robes were white as snow, and they had that light, elegant, sylph-like appearance, that when they leaned forward to the evening air, one could hardly help suspecting that they would skim away in it like twin doves.

"Sister," said the one, "haste and tell me what we are to do?"

"There is much to do to-night," said the other. "That clown who saw us, and heard us speak, will blab the news; and then, think what the consequences may be! He must be silenced, and that instantly."

"And tell me," said the first, "is the plot against the king's life to be put in execution to-night?"

"I fear it is," answered the other; "and the abbot, his own kinsman, is in it."

"Alas, sister, what shall we do! Give me Philamy's rod, and trust the clown to me. But do you make all possible haste, and find your way into the banquet hall, and be sure to remain there in spite of all opposition."

The two sisters parted; and she that got the wand from the other repaired straight to the Moss Thorn, where honest Croudy, and his dog Mumps, were lying at a little distance from each other; the one very busy biting for fleas, that he supposed had made a lodgment among his rough matted hair, and the other conversing with himself about the properties of women, fairies, and witches. All of a sudden he beheld this beautiful angelic creature coming towards him, which made his heart thrill within him.

"Saint Mary be my guide!" exclaimed Croudy to himself; "saw ever ony body the like o' yon? I declare Pery has dressed hersel like a princess to come an' speak to me!--An' to think o' me kissing a creature like yon! I maun do it, too, or else I'll never hear the end o't.--Och! what will I do!--I'll lie down an' pretend to be sleepin."

Croudy drew his plaid up over his face, stretched out his limbs, and snored as in a profound sleep. The fair lady came up, gave him three strokes with her wand, and uttered certain words at every stroke; and, lo! the whole mortal frame of Croudy was in five seconds changed into that of a huge bristly boar! The transformation was brought about so suddenly, and Mumps was so much engaged, that he never once noticed, in the slightest degree, till all was over, and the lady had withdrawn. Let any man judge of the honest colley's astonishment, when, instead of his master, he beheld the boar standing hanging his ears, and shaking his head at him. He betook himself to immediate flight, and ran towards the house faster than ever he ran in his life, yelping all the way for perfect fright. Croudy was very little better himself. At first he supposed that he was in a dream, and stood a long time considering of it, in hopes the fantasy would go off; but on seeing the consternation of Mumps, he looked first to the one side, and then to the other, and perceiving his great bristly sides and limbs, he was seized with indescribable terror, and fled at full speed. It is well known what a ridiculous figure a hog makes at any time when frightened, and exerting itself to escape from the supposed danger--there is not any thing so calculated to make one laugh--his stupid apprehension of some approaching mischief--the way that he fixes his head and listens--gives a grunt like the crack of a musket, and breaks away again. Every one who has witnessed such a scene, will acknowledge, that it is a masterpiece of the ludicrous. Consider, then, what it would be to see one in such a fright as this poor beast was, and trying to escape from himself; running grunting over hill and dale, hanging out his tongue with fatigue, and always carrying the object of his terror along with him. It was an ineffectual exertion of mind to escape from matter; for, though Croudy's form and nature were changed, he still retained the small and crude particles of the reasoning principle which he had before. All feelings else were, however, for the present swallowed up in utter dismay, and he ran on without any definitive aim, farther than a kind of propensity to run to the end of the world. He did not run a great way for all that; for he lost his breath in a very short time; but even in that short time, he run himself into a most imminent danger.

Squire Fisher of Dernaway Tower had a large herd of cows--they were all standing in the loan, as the milking green is called in that country, and the maidens were engaged in milking them, singing the while in full chorus, (and a sweet and enlivening chorus it was, for the evening was mild and serene), when down comes this unearthly boar into the loan, all fatigued as he was, gaping and running on without stop or stay. The kine soon perceived that there was something super-human about the creature, for even the most dull of animals have much quicker perceptions than mankind in these matters; and in one moment they broke all to the gate as they had been mad, overturning the milk, maidens, and altogether. The boar ran on; so did the kine, c.o.c.king their heads and roaring in terror, as if every one of them had been bewitched, or possessed by some evil spirit. It was a most dismal scene!--The girls went home with the rueful tidings, that a mad boar had come into the loan, and bitten the whole herd, which was all run off mad, along with the furious and dreadful animal. The dogs were instantly closed in for fear of further danger to the country; and all the men of the village armed themselves, and sallied out to surround and destroy this outrageous monster.

It chanced, however, that the boar in his progress ran into a large field of strong standing corn, which so impeded his course that he fell down breathless, and quite exhausted; and thus he lay stretched at full length, panting in a furrow, while all the men of the country were running round and round him, every one with a sword, spear, or fork, ready to run into his body.

Croudy, or the Boar, as it is now more proper to designate him, got here some time to reflect. He found that he was transformed by witchcraft or enchantment, and as he had never looked up from under his plaid during the moments of his transformation, he conceived it to have been the beautiful and wicked Pery that had wrought this woful change upon him; therefore he had no hopes of regaining his former shape, save in her returning pity and compa.s.sion; and he had strong hopes that she would ere long relent, as he had never wilfully done her any ill. Pery knew nothing about the matter; but actually went up with a heart as light as a feather to have some sport with Croudy at the Old Thorn; and when she found that he was not there, she laughed and went home again, saying to herself, that she knew he durst not stand such an encounter.

The poor boar arose from his furrow in the midst of the field of corn, as soon as it was day-light next morning, and with a heavy and forlorn heart went away back to the Old Moss Thorn, in hopes that the cruel Pery would seek him there, and undo the enchantment. When he came, he discovered honest Mumps lying on the very spot where he had last seen his master in his natural shape. He had sought it again over night, notwithstanding the horrible fright that he had got, for he knew not where else to find his master; and stupid as he was, yet, like all the rest of his species, he lived only in his master's eye. He was somewhat alarmed when he saw the boar coming slowly toward him, and began first to look over the one shoulder, and then over the other, as if meditating an escape; but, seeing that it came grunting in such a peaceable and friendly manner, Mumps ventured to await the issue, and by the time the monster approached within twenty paces of him, this faithful animal went cowring away to meet him, prostrated himself at the boar's feet, and showed every symptom of obedience and affection. The boar, in return, patted him with his cloven hoof, and stroaked him with his bristly cheek. Matters were soon made up--thenceforward they were inseparable.

The boar lay all that day about the Moss Thorn, and Mumps lay in his bosom, but no pitying damsel, witch, or fairy, came near him. He grew extremely hungry in the evening, and was deeply distressed what to do for food, for he pitied Mumps more than himself. At length he tried to plow up the earth with his nose, as he remembered of having seen swine do before, but at that he made small progress, doing it very awkwardly, and with great pain to his face. Moreover, for all his exertion, he found nothing to eat, save one or two moss-corns, and a ground walnut, with which he was obliged to content himself; and, for his canine friend, there was nothing at all.